


Closed Doors, Locked In (I'll Keep it Inside)

by imawalkingtravesty



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Awesome James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Awesome Pepper Potts, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Depressed Tony Stark, Gen, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insomniac Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark at MIT, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Kid Peter Parker, Kid Tony Stark, MIT Era, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Peter Parker, References to Depression, Steve Rogers is a dick, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 07:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21032201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imawalkingtravesty/pseuds/imawalkingtravesty
Summary: The lights were off and Pepper appeared asleep, lying in bed with her eyes determinedly closed, which just proved how much time he spent behind the locked door. He’d been spending too much time behind locked doors lately.In which Tony Stark worked too hard on burying his emotions to let himself fall apart, so he'll just wait it out until the day he finally breaks.





	1. Chapter 1

Rhodey had no idea what to expect when the guidance counselor pulled him aside to tell him that he was going to be roomed with Tony Stark, a fifteen-year-old, thanks for your cooperation, here’s a free month of a meal plan.

For some reason, he wasn’t quite expecting all of...this.

Tony Stark followed his own schedule; he slept only when he actually passed out, and spent his time awake throwing himself into his work. He was difficult. He would yell and spit whenever Rhodey tried to sit him down to explain that normal people needed to sleep and eat, because for some reason, Tony thought he was special and didn’t need to take care of himself in order to live. There were many times in which Rhodey had forced him to bed at a decent time, only to wake up to the sound of something exploding and seeing Tony’s soot-covered face pop out from wherever he had landed. Often, it was just his chair that tipped over, sending Tony’s skull slamming against the hardwood floor, but sometimes it sent him stumbling clear across the room. One time half of the wall was missing and Tony was buried under a pile of rubble. He didn’t seem to care and just threw money at them when the university demanded that he pay for it.

Tony didn’t care about anything, that was the difficult part. He didn’t seem to care that he could get hurt in his late-night explosions (at least go to the school lab, Tony, you don’t have to ruin our room over it), he didn’t care that he was close to passing out from exhaustion, and he didn’t care about the school, even. Rhodey was in a few of his classes, and Tony never studied, even though Rhodey was cramming for a test. And Tony always aced it. Every single time. 

And his face was always passive, not showing joy, or satisfaction. It was like he didn’t feel accomplished with every 100% he got.

(There were also the rare times that Tony wouldn’t wake up and Rhodey would find an empty container of pills and they’d go to the hospital and Tony would finally gain consciousness and Rhodey would just keep asking if it was on purpose but Tony never replied. They never talked about that afterward.)

But for all of the difficult times and sprinting to find a fire extinguisher, Tony had a good side. The first thing Tony did was nickname him Rhodey, because one-syllable names were boring and too short. Rhodey, to try and one-up him or whatever, started calling him ‘Tones’, but it never caught on obsessively the way that Tony insisted he answer to every name but Rhodey’s own. It was also a helpful thing in a way, because whether Tony knew he was doing it or not, whenever he was upset he actually called Rhodey by his first name. That was when Rhodey knew to take a night in and stay with him to make sure that Tony didn’t ingest any pills he wasn’t supposed to take and wake up in the hospital again.

Tony also knew how to have a great time. He came back from the school lab once to find Rhodey and a case of beer, and Rhodey offered some to him (seemed like the right thing to do, Tony needed to loosen up), and Tony soon turned into a total party-goer. He would go out and get beat up and come back to a Rhodey who pretended to fuss over him, but Tony could tell that Rhodey was having a good time with all the drinking and partying and lights and girls, so they kept going. Tony knew how to play up the crowd, and brought Rhodey into the giant mess because they both loved attention and drinks and females and a grand old time. Tony may have been young, but he had a way with words.

But there were also the times spent alone, just the two of them together, beers in between them, watching the Super Bowl or the Stanley Cup finals or the Olympics. Or sometimes there was Mario Kart with beer, but Tony would always win for some inexplicable reason, which shouldn’t make any sense because it was a Wii game for God’s sake and nobody should be able to hack into it as it wasn’t even hooked up to any server. Or sometimes there were fancy drinks when Tony knew that Rhodey was feeling stressed and they drank enough to chill out and relax. Either way, drinking was a big part of Tony and Rhodey’s university life.

(Rhodey would later blame himself when he saw how much Tony, an underage teenager, was drinking. Tony brushed it off and said that he was an alcoholic before MIT, and Rhodey started to really question Howard’s parenting techniques.)

One day, Rhodey was at his desk trying to load a code onto a circuit board and Tony was sitting on his bed nursing a hangover when Tony’s phone started to ring. He stared at the caller ID with an unreadable expression before answering it, bringing the phone to his ear. Rhodey turned around to see what was up, kicking the ground to make his chair spin around.

There was speaking on the other end, too quiet for Rhodey to hear, but the effect on Tony was scary. All of his muscles tensed up and his eyes blew wide, and Rhodey quickly moved forward to see if he could help, as it kind of looked like he was going into cardiac arrest with the way his face paled like that. The voice on the other end was still speaking, but Tony refused to say anything.

He put a shaking finger up, signalling at Rhodey to wait, before hanging up on the person on the other end and throwing his phone into the wall. It made a dark dent complete with a dull thud, and Tony stood up before immediately slumping down on the other side of the bed, barely sitting up. He rested his head against the edge of the bed, breathing heavily and with purpose.

Rhodey sat down beside him, noticing that Tony was shaking slightly, his arms wrapped around his body as if he was hugging himself. “You alright, Tones?” he asked softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Jarvis is dead,” Tony said simply, without elaborating who Jarvis was. His body gave an involuntary start, lurching forward and curling up into himself, and his hands flew to his eyes to shield them from Rhodey’s gaze. 

Rhodey squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Whoever this Jarvis person was, he was obviously very important to Tony. He’d never seen his friend lash out like that, throwing things, and wasn’t too keen on seeing him do it again. So, he just sat there with his hand on his friend, feeling a bit scared for both of them.

Tony rubbed his eyes a few times, took a deep breath, and removed his hands from his face and put them in his lap. He turned to Rhodey with a passive expression, totally composed.

There were no tears, Rhodey realized. 

A year or so later, a cold December day, Rhodey rushed back to his dorm as quickly as he could without breaking the law. He was hanging out at a bar, it was about eleven at night, when he glanced up at the TV because he thought he heard someone say ‘Stark.’ He stood up hastily, stumbling around, and thanked the Lord above that he hadn’t had a drink yet so he could drive alert and not meet the same fate that Tony’s parents had, as the TV had displayed under ‘Breaking News’.

He came back, shoving his keys into the lock and turning the doorknob with a speed and accuracy he didn’t know he had, and opened the door.

The dorm was a mess. There was a broken, cracked phone left on Tony’s bed, and there was a dent in the wall plaster along with blood beside it, and there were awards and frames filled with certificates lying on the ground, rumpled, broken in half, shattered. There was crumpled up paper overflowing the trash bin, and Rhodey realized that Tony might’ve just thrown his entire life’s work away. A couple of broken whirring sounds made Rhodey look over to find a piece of machinery, still a work in progress, snapped in half. 

Rhodey eventually found Tony in the closet, crouched behind his suitcase with an empty look on his face, carefully burning the skin on his left wrist with a lighter. Rhodey pulled him out and hugged him tight, prying the lighter from Tony’s clenched hands and tucking him in bed. Tony didn’t say a word through the entire ordeal.

Nor did he shed a tear, Rhodey noticed with a certain uneasiness. 

\--

In all of her four years working with Stark, Pepper Potts had never seen him cry.

Working for four years didn’t sound that long, but working with a literal man-child who only does what he wants, when he wants, and how he wants can make a day feel like a week, a week like a month, a month like a year, and etc, etc. It was never a fun time trying to force Mr Stark to get up and actually attend the meetings, attend galas, and you know, actually do the work he was supposed to do. He had very odd hours and time seemed to not have any significant meaning to him, as once he phoned Pepper asking if she could pick up his burger for him from the front door. That was at three AM. 

(And Pepper got up, thanked the delivery man, gave Tony his burger, and promptly put him to bed. It was like having a child of her own.)

But in the four years that she had been working for Mr Stark, she began to notice small things. Things that she wouldn’t pay the slightest attention to in a regular person, but this was Mr Stark, her boss. And believe it or not, she’d grown to care for the man, no matter how childish and immature he was and no matter how many times he’d attempted to flirt with her. She knew that all of that was a play for attention, and even if it wasn’t the ideal kind, any type of attention is good attention for Tony. 

Something she’d noticed was that when he was upset, he’d actually show up to work. On time. And he’d do the paperwork without struggle, and he’d attend the meetings without convincing, and he’d stop interrupting with useless comments. Essentially, he did his job when he was having an off day. And on those days, he would often find an excuse to go see her, whether it be paperwork or something stupid like she left a pen in his office, and he’d just stand there awkwardly. He would glance at her as if he wanted to tell her something, the muscles in his mouth working even though no sound would come out.

Whenever Pepper inquired, though, he would shake his head, stand there for a few seconds more, then turn around to leave. 

The only time she got close to seeing Tony cry was one December sixteenth.

Tony had a reputation of full-on disappearing every year on December sixteenth, involving the police and Rhodey and Pepper, so the two friends usually found themselves purposefully clearing their schedules that day. When Tony didn’t appear for a few hours, and after looking fervently throughout his usual hiding places, the police would be called. Then a drunk or emotionally compromised Tony Stark would hitch a ride in one of the police cars and show up on the mansion or tower doorstep a few hours later. It was like a system. Every year, without fail, Tony would be found in a cemetery or a bar or wherever, and then be hauled back by the police.

So on that specific December sixteenth, Pepper decided to check the mansion. Tony hadn’t shown up to work, and she hadn’t either, using one of her days of leave to spend the entire day searching for him. It had taken her a couple hours to fly down to Malibu from New York, but Mr Hogan had piloted her in their boss’s private jet. Tony’s least-favourite car was missing, which was a tell-tale sign that he had gone somewhere far, as he refused to wear down his best cars.

She let herself in, the door unlocking under her bio metric password, and was met with silence.

Tony was sitting on the couch, the lights and television off, staring off at nothing. He was wringing his hands, over and over, only pausing for a second before resuming when Pepper had announced her arrival by closing the door noisily. She sat down gently beside him, afraid to touch, because it looked like he was going to fall apart with the slightest movement.

“Is there anything I can do to help, Mr Stark?” she asked, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Tony dropped his head so he was staring down, then closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. He cleared his throat a couple of times before looking back up, facing straight ahead, and when he opened his eyes there was a raw, thin sheen to them. Unshed tears.

Pepper’s heart broke that night. She knew that there was more to his usual press smiles and smirks and jokes, but it stared right at her, eating away at her heart and conscious. This was the Tony Stark whenever he was alone, when there was nobody who could take a photo of him and spread the nasty rumours and leak things to the public. His usual manner was just a shield to protect himself from prying eyes.

Tony got up shakily, leaning heavily on the couch armrest, turning his face away from her right when she saw the tears finally fall. He let out a strangled breath, and when she got up to help him stand properly, he waved her away.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, before letting out a broken, “I’m fine.”

She watched as Tony tried to discreetly wipe his eyes on the neck of his shirt, then made his way over to a hallway. She stayed in the main room, her eyes sadly trailing his shaking form as he made his way down the hall, and into his bedroom. The lock clicked audibly when the door closed.

Pepper realized that Tony only cried when he was truly alone, not even in front of her, and that’s a very lonely way to live.

\--

Happy Hogan had been Tony’s driver for a whole decade now, and he’d always been slightly worried about his boss.

It had started off fine; Tony had asked him to drive him somewhere (he was drunk), immediately nicknaming him Happy (because it contradicted with the serious resting face Mr Hogan often wore), and Happy had been proud. His boss trusted him to drive, even though he was, technically, security, and therefore had to be screened and tested and had extensive background checks done on him, but it was nice. He saw himself promoted up the ranks, slowly but surely, and for one, he actually tolerated the man unlike some of Tony’s old drivers. Mr Stane had called him up and told him to buy himself something nice with the new raise. When Happy asked why, Mr Stane just winked and told him that he’d been the first to not quit after the first month.

But Tony really only asked him to drive when he was drunk or was physically unable to do so (broken arm, foot, had to do paperwork in the backseat that he neglected to do, the equivalent of a student doing work on the bus). Otherwise, he would tell Happy to move from the drivers’ seat so that he could drive, and even though Happy never inquired, he had his suspicions. It could be the Starks’ car accident. It could be the accident in Monaco. It could be the incident in Afghanistan. It could be Tony needing to have absolute control over everything, even if Happy had driven him before and it had all been fine (other than the Monaco incident, but that doesn’t count, they were attacked).

Other than that, after a few months, he started picking up on a few things. 

He was Tony’s designated driver for his almost nightly escapades to the many bars and pubs around New York. One time, it actually did become nightly for an entire month, and it ended in Happy beside Tony’s hospital bed after he overdosed on sleeping pills while Pepper did all she could to keep it out of the news.

(The doctors said it was most likely an accident, but Happy knew Tony better than that; he had seen the overdose coming from miles away.) 

The hospital scare was the wake up call. Happy knew that he had been going through hard times, between the kidnapping and Obie and Iron Man and New York. Heck, he himself had nearly died from the alien attack, who knew what Tony was thinking, as he was the one who flew a nuke into space and nearly ended it all for God’s sake. 

But Happy was paid not to judge, so he never did verbally, but silently he kept wondering if all was right in Tony Stark’s world.

A few times, he’d been tempted to ask. Because every once in a while, after Tony called him to ask for a ride home from a club or a bar or whatever, he’d notice the way he’d hold himself. Instead of the grandeur and personality for three men, Tony would be silent, and would slip into the backseat quietly and stare out the window as Happy pulled away from the curb, away from the loud and busy social spaces where there were way too many drinks and probably loads of illegal substances.

But he never did ask.

The one time he swallowed his pride and the fear of losing his job for the sake of his boss’s safety, he had glanced in his rear-view mirror to see if Tony was still breathing. His hands were covering his face and he was shaking slightly, and over the sounds of the traffic around them Happy could hear his shuddering breaths.

“Everything alright, boss?” he asked, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

He glanced at the road for quick second before looking back into the mirror. Tony’s hands were in his lap, away from his face, and he looked composed; a contrast to how he looked just a second before.

“Just drive, Hogan,” Tony said simply, the only trace of weakness shown in the way his voice wavered just slightly. 

So Happy drove.

\--

The Avengers have never seen Tony Stark less than passive. Angry, sure, but downright miserable? Never.

So they always kept to themselves. Tony Stark was doing fine, Tony Stark didn’t need comforting or picking up on his bad days, as it seemed he never had any. 

But Tony returned to the tower after the whole Ultron fiasco, alone, because there was no way that people would like him after that mistake. He had almost single-handedly killed an entire population. He had almost caused a mass extinction. He didn’t deserve to have people near him, because he would just mess it up like he messed everything up. 

Not only that, but two of the people he actually decently cared about were gone. Bruce, and JARVIS.

The whole team was occupied with mourning Bruce, so Tony left. He’d face the fact that his science bro had left later, but right now he just wanted to go home.

But where was home? The mansion, which was still under renovation after the terrorist attack, or the tower, that held too many memories, and goddammit why was it so quiet? Everyone who worked on the property had the day off (a near-apocalypse tended to do things like that) so he was, really, alone. But that meant that he was free to lash out, free to literally kill himself, without too much worrying about if someone would find him.

It was funny. He used to enjoy his time alone, especially at home when Howard had left for work and Maria was attending a gala. He would play the piano (he played quite well, in fact), sneak a look into his father’s workshop to see what new things he was inventing, or sometimes scream into his pillow. But the last one didn’t work too well usually, because even though Jarvis lived in the house beside theirs, he always knew when Tony felt like screaming. So he would knock twice on the door, open it to find a kid burying his face into his pillow, pretty much sobbing, and Tony wouldn’t be alone anymore. 

He used to hate being with people. But now he just felt lonely.

Tony went down to his floor, and sat in a soft chair with JARVIS’s hologram pulled up. He stared at it blankly, his arms folded over his chest, not daring to speak up because there was no one to talk to anymore.

Clint and Natasha come the day after, because they both knew what it was like to put the blame on you and only you. Steve came as well, but he had a bit of a harder time relating, because he was Captain America and literally could not do anything wrong. Talking to Tony was like talking to a brick wall, according to Steve, as he didn’t answer and wouldn’t stop staring at the glowy, damaged orange thing. Fixed JARVIS went into Vision, and broken JARVIS stayed at the tower, Tony explained, and he couldn’t just fix broken JARVIS because the AI had learned and coded magnificent things, and it just wouldn’t be the same, and everything would be wrong. Steve didn’t want to hear it and just left, letting Clint and Natasha try to talk him out of his funk.

Natasha pulled him away from the hologram near the end of the third day, after originally giving him food and water and leaving it on the side table. The glass of water would be touched, but the food would stay, always cold by the time Clint or Nat came by to pick up the dishes. Natasha had decided that Tony had enough wallowing in self-pity and Clint had made pancakes.

Tony didn’t say anything as he got hauled upstairs, which pained Natasha’s heart; for a man of many words and expressions, seeing him silent just seemed wrong.

It was so quiet inside of Tony’s head. Usually it would be JARVIS reminding him to eat and to drink and to actually take care of himself, but he wasn’t there. He always half-expected the British voice to speak up whenever Tony stood up to use the washroom and nearly passed out, quipping about getting enough rest, but it never came. He just missed JARVIS. He was one of his only friends. He kept Tony in check, and did everything for him, whether it be ordering food after Tony neglected to do so himself, or call Pepper when he was close to passing out from stress.

Tony just couldn’t eat while they were upstairs. Clint made a joke about Tony insulting his cooking skills, but it fell flat after there was no response. It was just so, so painfully quiet.

He got up eventually, feeling Natasha and Clint’s eyes bore into his back, because he was barely holding himself together and needed to get behind a closed door before he broke down, so he made his way downstairs and to his bedroom. The door locked manually behind him (JARVIS would’ve controlled the lock, but he was gonegonegone-), and Tony finally fell to his knees and just broke.

He broke alone, with nobody around to judge or see or notice. Not even JARVIS.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endgame spoilers? It's been like, six months, but still?

If there was one thing that Peter knew was going to be a constant in his life, it was that he was going to stan Tony Stark for the rest of his life.

Peter had always had an interest in science and when his parents introduced him to Tony Stark, who made loads of contributions, he was immediately impressed. He read his papers, watched his conferences (even though he was only around five at the time, and his parents were horrified by the language Tony used, he still poured over the words excessively), and anything that had to do with Tony Stark, he loved.

Then his parents died and he was thrown into the care of his aunt and uncle. But not only that; Tony Stark was Iron Man now! He had defeated a terrorist group, built himself a suit that literally had the most modern technology ever used in anything, and flew around blowing up bad guys. Uncle Ben and Aunt May had saved up for several years to take him to the Stark Expo, where he finally, finally met the great Tony Stark, and even got a ‘nice work, kid’ from him! Tony Stark had talked to him, saved him from the giant evil armour that attacked the Expo, that meant that they were practically best friends.

His obsession with Tony Stark never wavered. As soon as he found himself even slightly putting Star Wars in front of reading a new research paper that the genius had put out, Tony Stark seemed to always do something amazing and Peter would be thrown back into being impressed endlessly by the man. 

Sure, yeah, being Spider-Man was initially not all that great, complete with the murder of his Uncle Ben and nearly getting stabbed all of the time by bad guys, but after meeting Tony Stark? He has the man on video! Proof that they’ve met! He went to go fight Captain America with Tony Stark! Being Spider-Man was probably one of the best things that ever happened to him, because he literally got recruited by his hero to go fight another one of his heros (which didn’t sound all too great but honestly, it was awesome) and every once in a while he goes over to the compound to work with the man himself. It’s pretty great.

So one cold December day, Happy picked him up and they drove to the compound, Tony having asked if he could give him one last suit upgrade as an early Christmas present. Peter was beyond excited, honestly, a Christmas present? From Tony Stark? He’d never thought that he’d ever be that close to the billionaire, his younger self was quaking.

Happy took him through and pushed him into the elevator, mumbling about a headache and the amount of excitement that was radiating off of Peter at that moment. Peter didn’t care, he practically running up the walls and was bouncing on the balls of his feet as the elevator began the slow climb upwards to Tony’s workshop, to another day of basking in the glow and grandeur of the man.

The thing was, though, was that Tony Stark didn’t seem like, well, Tony Stark. He kept breaking things, letting out small curse words, and just seemed disoriented the entire time. Peter thought it was a bit strange, as Tony always was composed and joking and never letting too many swear words slip out in front of him, a kid. He kept getting distracted as well, pausing mid sentence while talking to Peter, then looking off into the distance for a bit or looking down at whatever he was working on, before blinking twice and resuming the rest of the conversation.

“You alright, Mr Stark? You seem a bit distracted,” Peter asked, after the fourth time Tony spaced out in the middle of lecturing Peter on how he managed to make the Spider-Man suit machine-washable. 

“I’m great, Pete,” Tony waved off the question, turned around to his own work, and totally forgot to finish his explanation on the suit.

Eventually, Tony’s recklessness exploded something, and he quickly ushered Peter out of the lab before they both died of inhaling whatever gas was hanging in the air. Dum-E was quick with the fire extinguisher, so the fires would be gone, but who knew what they would be breathing in if they stayed. There were air cylinders of whatever all over the place, it would probably be highly toxic.

Tony had the bright idea of making cookies to pass the time, and even though Peter was wary of letting Mr Stark get anywhere near another electrical appliance, he agreed and then they both found themselves spraying fire extinguisher foam/powder at the oven, which had caught on fire relatively quickly. The fire was out, but Tony kept spraying, and he had a look on his face that scared Peter. It was a look of determination and hopelessness mixed together, which didn’t really make sense, but it really worried him.

Peter yelled at him to stop, and eventually Tony did, and turned to face the kid with those empty eyes, and Peter didn’t know what to do.

Something was obviously very wrong in Tony Stark’s life. 

Peter knew that whenever he got sad, Aunt May would hug him and it always felt like the hug to end all hugs. It always felt like everything would be okay. So, in a rush of sympathy and a need to make things better, Peter pulled the fire extinguisher away from Tony and threw his arms around the taller man. Initially, ohmygodwhathaveidonehellhatemeafterthis ran through Peter’s head, but Tony didn’t push him away, so he just hung on.

Actually, the fact that Mr Stark didn’t say anything was worrisome.

“Do you ever just feel like crying, Mr Stark?” Peter asked, worried he was overstepping the line but not really caring all the same.

“Crying? No. I don’t cry. Stark men are made of Iron,” Tony said, his voice normal, unwavering. “My eyes sometimes sweat, though.”

Peter didn’t laugh at the poorly-timed joke because Mr Stark was hurt, or sad, or just something. He couldn’t put his finger on the emotion, but it was present, and for some reason, it made his heart pang with sympathy. He buried his face into Tony’s shirt, breathing in his scent.

“You know, it’s alright to cry. Toxic masculinity and all that,” Peter said, not really sure how to get his point across. 

Uncle Ben told him that it was okay for him to cry. It was okay to show emotion, and it didn’t make anyone weak, or look like they were grabbing for attention. Uncle Ben had gotten a call home from Peter’s elementary school because his nephew had gotten into a fight with the other kids, as they had found him crying and laughed at him, calling him a crybaby. The fight was pretty one-sided, as Peter had been tiny then (and still was tiny now), and Ben took care of the rapidly bruising eye and they both had a heart-to-heart about how the boys at school were all under the impression that toxic masculinity should be normalized.

Tony just sighed, giving Peter a pat on the back. “As much as I appreciate the thought, kid, you’re squeezing the life out of me.”

Peter lessened his grip around Tony, but then had an idea and just lifted him up.

“And we’re- oh, God. Pete, is this what Cap feels like? Nope. Not having this. Put me down. Abort mission,” Tony rambled, trying to kick himself out of Peter’s grip, but super-strength sometimes had advantages.

Peter carried him over to the black couch, and threw him down on the cushions. Tony made a big show of rubbing at his ribs as Peter sat down beside him, making small comments, but eventually he quieted down because he wasn’t getting a reaction out of the kid and that was 90% of the reason he joked around. Just to see the smile on a face.

“You’re right,” Tony said finally, after a small moment of silence. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

“It's alright, Mr Stark,” Peter reassured him, surprised at the vulnerability that he showed.

“It’s really not, Pete,” Tony sighed. “I’m just- I’m-”

“No really, Mr Stark. We’ve all got our bad days,” Peter interrupted.

Tony smiled coldly and shook his head, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands together, the act almost normal if it wasn’t for how white his knuckles were; he was practically squeezing his hands together. “I can’t afford bad days.”

Peter didn’t quite know how to answer, or if he should even say anything, but Mr Stark stood up and answered for him; “I need to go make some calls. Happy will drive you back.”

Peter sighed and stood up, hearing the ‘you should go’ not said in Tony’s sentences. He pressed the button for the elevator and picked up the slightly singed school bag (they had managed to grab it before evacuating the lab), ready to meet Happy in the parking lot. The sort of good and excited feeling left Peter like a deflated balloon as he stepped into the elevator, and he found himself tired after the days’ events. Maybe it was witnessing his mentor close to a mental breakdown, or maybe it was being in two near-death experiences in the span of twenty minutes, whatever it was, it tired him out. He felt ready to crash at home and watch a movie, pushing away the thoughts about how Tony was so vulnerable and broken today. He didn’t need to dig in, the man was allowed his secrets and bad days.

As he climbed into Happy’s car, he wondered what else he didn’t know about Tony Stark.

\--

Tony sat on the side of his bed, his back facing the door. He knew that Pepper would come in at any moment, as she was just in the washroom, so he should probably pull it together, but he didn’t have the energy.

Peter Parker witnessed the beginning of the breakdown, and now he was sure that he was close to finishing it; breaking a few things, waving a gun around, finally ending it all. He could practically feel himself deteriorating, and everyday just got worse and worse. He actually voiced his concerns to Rhodey once, after being heavily intoxicated and breaking his streak of staying sober. Rhodey, also intoxicated, told him that it was probably because he just kept everything inside and soon it would all explode like coke coming out of a bottle. Then they started talking about explosions, and it got more science-y and less serious. 

Pepper stepped in, and she noticed how he kept wringing his hands like he did whenever he was upset, and she sat beside him instead of sitting on her usual side of the bed. “You okay?” she said softly.

“Am I?” Tony asked, and if it was meant to be snarky or humourous, it wasn’t; it just sounded empty, and Pepper’s brow furrowed.

“You tell me,” she replied. “You know, for all of the talking you seem to do, you never seem to talk to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” he said, raising an eyebrow. His guard was back up.

Pepper sighed. “I’m not going to force you to say anything, but you know you can tell me.”

Tony shook his head, not knowing how to say anything, how to tell her how he’d been feeling for the past few days. She didn’t need to know, it would only hurt her, and besides; he couldn’t even put it into words. It would be like trying to explain to someone who had always lived in a hot climate what ice hockey was. It wouldn’t be beneficial for any of them.

“You don’t have to hold yourself together for me. I know you,” she interrupted his thoughts.

But did she really? Sure, they were engaged and all, but did she really know who he was? If she did, why was she still here? He was a murderer. He had blood on his hands, red in his ledger, and everybody hated him. What possible benefit did Pepper have if she stayed with him? He was nothing; and besides, he was wasting away anyway.

“Why are you with me?” he asked quietly.

“Because I love you,” she answered without hesitation. “Believe me, I was surprised too.”

Tony smiled softly to himself; there was a loving humour in her voice, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe she meant it. The smile slowly slipped off of his face until he looked up at her with helpless and empty eyes, his hands still shaking, grasping each other, over and over. Pepper took his hand and squeezed it gently, stopping the panicked movements, letting him know that she was here for him. But Tony’s stupid heart still had doubts. He always doubted everything, he was indecisive, could he grow up already?

Maybe it was his parents, specifically his dad, that made him doubt every person who comes into his life. Maybe it was Howard who taught him that masculinity meant toughing it up and hiding, suppressing emotions, and who taught him to never get attached or close to anybody because it would only end badly. A small part of Tony thought that maybe he was right, as getting close to everyone just seemed to fuck up his life. But maybe it was his many betrayals that made him unable to reach out, with Obie who took the arc reactor and left him to die for the sake of money, who arranged to have him captured. There was also Cap, a man he trusted so much that he hadn’t even programmed a fighting sequence into his suit to defeat him. And the man put the shield right through the reactor in his suit and ran away with his parents’ murderer. Whatever the reason, the words got stuck in his throat whenever he tried to even say something remotely emotional.

“This is my first time seeing you crying,” Pepper noticed, pulling her sleeve over her hand so she could wipe his eyes with the fabric. 

The affection was nice, but Tony immediately froze, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn’t realized that he’d been crying. This was, this was bad, less than ideal, he wasn’t supposed to- Howard would kill him.

“I’m not here to judge, Tony,” she said, noticing his reluctance. “It’s alright.”

This was wrong. He shouldn’t be, this wasn’t good. He shouldn’t be here. Pepper can’t see him, because that means that he’s weak, and he can’t let anybody see that he’s weak because Stark men are made of iron and no matter how much he hated his dad he couldn’t get the thought out of his head because it was true, it was all true, truetruetrue his dad was right and there was no way that he could let himself fuck up his and Pepper’s relationship. That was the one thing, the most important thing in his life right now, maintaining the stable-ish relationship with this fierce woman who could take care of him because he was a mess, but she can’t know that he’s a mess even though it’s painfully obvious now that he thinks about it, and oh God, he’s spiraling again isn’t he.

“Brush, teeth,” Tony got out, making vague gestures that resembled slightly like brushing his teeth. 

Pepper let go of him, sighing, knowing that this was just another excuse to get himself behind a closed door.

Tony stumbled into the washroom, locking the door and leaning heavily against the sink. He bit his lip to keep the whimpers to a minimum as he essentially broke down right there in front of the mirror, with his hands gripping the sides of the porcelain sink so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He just needed to get it together, then he could sleep, and wake up the next day just fine and dandy. He’ll be okay. He always was okay. He just needed to get it together, Goddammit, and then he’ll go back and Pepper won’t ask questions even though he knew she’ll be worried but it’s okay, because he’ll be fine, and therefore he won’t lose it in front of her. Not again.

Tony turned the tap on to make it seem like he was actually using the washroom, even though Pepper was probably less than convinced. 

But what was stopping him from crying in front of others? He knew that he wouldn’t get judged. Heck, Rhodey had walked in on him burning his own skin, his dignity was far from gone. But it was something that prevented him. Maybe the kid was right; toxic masculinity might’ve played a big part in his suppressing emotion/absolute denial of having emotions business. 

So could he place the blame on a man who’s been dead for decades?

Tony finally composed himself, his face less blotchy and his nose less sniffly, and he opened the washroom door. The lights were off and Pepper appeared asleep, lying in bed with her eyes determinedly closed, which just proved how much time he spent behind the locked door. He’d been spending too much time behind locked doors lately. 

He sighed softly and climbed into bed, the voice in his head too loud and the emptiness in his chest feeling like it was going to consume his whole body. 

\--

The day Tony Stark finally broke, in front of everyone, no less, he was honestly expecting it.

He had been without water, food, without Pepper, all with a mean blue robot to keep him company. Heck, he nearly died, the infection had run its course along with the fever dreams that he woke up sweating and yelling from, he kept seeing the kid crumble in his hands, and yeah, it was sure a sweet time up in a spaceship in the middle of space. He had lost hope that he was going to be saved a week into the flight, and it was just living until he died, then. He would have released the airlock chamber with himself in it, a quick and easy death, if Nebula hadn’t stopped him and strapped him to the captain’s seat for a few hours to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. Good times.

So when help finally came, when he should’ve been enjoying a nice and peaceful slip into hell, the only thought in his mind was Pepper.

Cap ran to him first. For some reason, that didn’t bother him. He was just glad to be home.

_I lost the kid._

Pepper next. She ended up holding his hand as they entered the IV line, pushed him into a wheelchair, and told him to take it easy and to not, under any circumstances, rip out the IV line.

He felt himself losing it when Cap had the audacity to wind him up, talking about his views and asking what Thanos told him, stupid crap like that, and he ended up yelling (read; not taking it easy). And he knew that he would break soon, and it would be bad after suppressing this goddamned mental breakdown for so many years, and he ripped out his IV line (read; not following any of the doctor’s orders). So when he woke up after passing out, he was kind of grateful that he didn’t actually lose it, especially in front of Steve, who thought he was weak and couldn’t fight with other people but there was another person there fighting with him and he was dead and oh God the kid-

Tony ripped out all of the tubes and lines connecting to him, ignoring the bleeding, because he was alone, and if he was alone that meant that the avengers were somewhere else. He needed an eye on them at all times. He needed to know. He couldn’t stand not knowing.

He rounded the corner to see all of his teammates in full battle gear, and his face twisted into confusion. They were all sad, heavy eyebrows and empty eyes, just standing in the foyer of the medical wing in the compound.

“Oh good, you’re up and walking,” Rhodey said, stepping out of the War Machine armour and eyeing Tony up and down wearily.

“Don’t think I’m supposed to be,” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Mission without me?”

“Thanos is dead,” the new girl said. “Thor decapitated him.”

All of the air left Tony’s lungs, making him stumble a bit. “He, you, what?”

“While you were unconscious we found him,” Steve said, solemnly. “We attacked him. He destroyed the stones. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Are you insane?” Tony yelled, keeping a hand on the wall to hold him upright. “Intergalactic planetary mission to see if you can avenge three and a half billion people’s deaths. Without me?”

“You were unconscious, Tony,” Rhodey stepped up. “You’re still in no shape to be yelling.”

“Fuck that! He, he killed my kid, Rhodey!” Tony said, gritting his teeth. “I should, I needed to be there. _He killed my kid!”_

“He’s already dead,” Steve supplied unhelpfully.

“You know what, Cap?” Tony took a dangerous and wobbly step toward Steve. “You know what we should’ve done?”

“Tony..,” Rhodey warned, keeping a hand on his arm in case he were to collapse again.

“Gone for the stones. I should’ve gone for the stones. They were right there!” Tony yelled, pointing to his hand. “Screw the gauntlet! We needed the stones!”

“Tony, it’s over, there’s nothing we can do,” Natasha tried, taking a step forward to block Tony from launching himself at Steve, should he suddenly feel the need to.

“I should’ve gone for the stones. The stones, not the gauntlet. The stones, _Goddammit_,” Tony spat, feeling his legs give away and Rhodey tightened his grip on his arm until Tony could get his feet back under him. “I need to- He was my kid. I should’ve been there, he’s dead!”

“Tony, you need to calm down,” Rhodey said in a harsher voice. 

“To hell with that! Don’t I deserve to be mad? I lost the kid. _My kid.”_

“You’re not the only one grieving,” Steve said in a monotone voice, and Rhodey would have face palmed had he not been holding onto Tony. Steve did not have great bedside manner.

“Fuck you, Cap, you were there. You avenged whoever’s death you’re grieving over. _I was in bed_.” Tony emphasized. “What I wouldn’t give to see the life leave the eyes of that purple raisin with the yeezy shoes-looking chin. You were there, Cap!”

“Alright, we’re going to go, now,” Rhodey said, turning so that Tony was blocked from the avengers by his body. “Tony. Get it together,” he said harshly. 

“He was my kid,” Tony said dejectedly. “I should’ve been there!”

“Tony-”

“No, fuck you! I just need to, I need-”

“I think you all should leave,” Pepper’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned to watch the rest of the Avengers shuffle shamefully out of the room, herded by Pepper. All of them casting worried glances back at Rhodey, who was holding Tony up by his arm in a grip that was becoming uncomfortable because his legs wouldn’t cooperate.

“Without me. I can’t- I had to- I, it had to,” Tony said breathlessly, his voice already getting weaker. “He was my kid.”

“I know, Tony. But Thanos is dead,” Rhodey said softly. “It’s alright.”

“Me. I had to,” Tony slumped down on the ground, rubbing his temples. “My kid. I, Pete. He’s-”

“You’re alright.” 

Tony shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. “My fault. I had to, I should’ve gone for the stones.”

“Thanos is dead. It doesn’t matter.”

“But so’s my kid!” Tony yelled, seeing black on the edges again along with the white sparkly dots invading his vision. Maybe he should have stayed in bed for a little while more. “Peter, He’s-”

“It’s okay,” Rhodey said, hauling him up, wrapping his arms under Tony’s armpits and holding him there against his body as Tony’s legs still refused to work properly. “I think you should rest.”

“It’s- oh God,” Tony said, shaking his head, letting out a sob. “He’s gone, Rhodey.”

And suddenly they were back to the MIT years, Rhodey holding Tony as he stared blankly at a wall, trying furiously to hold back a wave of tears by blinking once every minute. Just this time, Tony was crying, too exhausted, too spent to just not cry, and it hurt Rhodey so much to see that his friend, who was so determined to never show emotion whenever he was around people, was damaged into finally doing it. The tears soaked in through his shirt, but Rhodey didn’t care, because Tony finally broke and it was bad, badbad because Tony Stark never showed emotion.

And then Pepper came back after seeing the Avengers off and she started crying slightly because Tony never cried, he never let himself be that way even in front of Pepper, the love of his life, and that just hurt Rhodey. Imagine not being able to let down the masks even in front of people you trust, people you love, people you promise to spend the rest of your life with even if life is short. Tony had too many masks, and today was the day that all of them broke along with him, leaving a broken, sobbing man underneath them all.

Once Tony’s sobs echoed into hiccups, Rhodey looked at Pepper as if asking for permission and she nodded, her eyes still red and filled with unshed tears. Rhodey picked Tony up (ohmygodhelostsomuchweight), not risking him to walk without falling while he was in this condition, and gently placed him back onto the small hospital bed with the white sheets and the white walls and the white pillows. Pepper kissed his forehead gently and brought the blankets up to Tony’s chin, and Tony’s eyes closed obediently, the tear tracks drying on his face. He was so wrecked, just so, tired. So unlike the Tony Stark that everyone knew and hated and loved and resented.

Rhodey stepped out, leaving Pepper by the bed, not surprised to see the rest of the team still waiting outside of the medical wing. Rhodey felt silent resentment and guilt over not waiting for Tony to get better, but this was Thanos, he reasoned. Thanos needed to be done with. Thanos was dead. The stones were no more, there was no saving anyone unless they tried time travel, which was a purely fictional concept.

“He alright?” Steve asked, clearly worried.

Rhodey scanned the rest of the team’s faces. They all had the same creased forehead with the eyebrows knitted together, all concerned. Tony had never lashed out like that at Rhodey, who had known him since he was fifteen, let alone the team that he resented/enjoyed the presence of. Did the team deserve the information? Were they even a team?

“He started crying,” Rhodey said simply, crossing his arms over his chest defensively and leaning slightly to block the doorway to the medical wing, as if to prevent the team from looking in.

Steve looked at him with puzzlement written all over his face, like he didn’t know how much of a big deal that was.

“And I’ve never seen him cry before,” Rhodey finished, watching the faces go from confused to solemn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


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